


No Quarter

by Tangerine



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing/Washing, Biological Weapons, Comic Book Science, Embedded Images, Friends to Lovers, Iceland, M/M, Mission Fic, Original Character(s), Sharing a Bed, Undercover as a Couple, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27877057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: When Cyclops goes undercover and disappears, Wolverine is tasked with finding him. Just as he gets close, he's captured by unknown assailants, one of whom is Scott, who's in deep cover as Erik the Red. With the job not yet done, Scott convinces the others to hand a drugged and bound Logan over to his care. Together, they continue the ruse and work towards completing the mission. As the game escalates, so do the feelings they've been ignoring for years.Written for the 2020 Marvel Reverse Big Bang.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	No Quarter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrowSizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowSizna/gifts).



> Art is by the amazing [Crow-Sizna](https://crow-sizna.tumblr.com/) (Tumblr post [here](https://crow-sizna.tumblr.com/post/636909542111854592/title-no-quarter-wordcount-19204-archive)). Thank you so much, Sizna! Needless to say, Logan and I were both very... _inspired_ by your choice in Scott's fashion! 
> 
> Note: the art is embedded in the story and all three pieces are decidedly NSFW.
> 
> Many thanks to [Flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame) for the beta. The help and encouraging comments were greatly appreciated! Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Canon notes: Takes place post-Astonishing X-Men (Vol. 3, 2005) #12 but pre-Decimation and before Logan joins the Avengers. Emma and Scott do not get together during Morrison's X-Men run. Many thanks to [anaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaer) for helping me find a place in canon where my idea could actually work.

Logan sometimes wondered how his life had come to sneaking a smoke on the edge of the Institute's estate like he was a kid scared of being caught. Sometimes a guy just wanted to enjoy a cigar in peace without judgment. None of that _think of the children_ bullshit, especially when it didn't matter. _His_ lungs would be fine. The kids needed to do as he said, not as he did. He made a lousy role model anyway. 

Still, it was a nice night for it. Bugs weren't eating him alive yet, and the sky was clear, moon bright against the starry backdrop of the night. Temperature wasn't too bad either, warm enough to be comfortable without any of the humid stickiness to accompany it. Reminded him of back home. 

Logan took a deep drag on his cigar, letting the smoke build in his mouth before blowing it out.

It was serene in a way he didn't always get. It'd be better, though, without Emma lurking nearby.

"What do you want, Frost?" he asked. "And I hope that six-pack of beer in your hand is for me."

"A peace offering," she replied, passing it over. In addition to the beer, she had a folder under her arm.

"Feels more like a bribe."

"It's that, too," she agreed with a faint smile. 

"It's a good start," Logan said around the cigar pinched between his teeth as he worked on popping the cap off one of the beers. Feeling polite for once, he offered it first to Emma, who declined with a slight shake of her head. "This gift have something to do with the fact I ain't seen Scotty around for weeks?"

"It does."

Logan sat back, the bark of the tree biting into his skin. He took another deep pull on the cigar before switching his attention to the bottle of beer. Cold, balanced, Canadian. He couldn't really ask for more, except maybe a straight answer. "You gonna let me in on what he's been doing or do I gotta guess?"

"He's undercover," she replied. "And I've lost contact with him, even using Cerebra."

"Huh," Logan said, taking another swig of beer. "Anything to be worried about?"

She gave him a withering look, making it clear she wouldn't be here, skulking about in the dark in the middle of the night, if there wasn't a whole lot of shit to be worried about. "I can tell you where he last made contact," she said, finally. "Unfortunately, he didn't keep me as informed as he should have."

"Sounds like Cyke," Logan murmured. "Always thinking he can handle this sorta shit on his own."

"Yes, it's quite annoying," Emma agreed peaceably. There had been a time when Logan had expected Emma and Scott to hook up, especially after Jeannie died, but they just never had, for whatever reason. This was probably one of them, he thought, lips pressed around his beer bottle, still feigning disinterest.

"Lemme finish this cigar and your beer and then I'll see what I can find." 

"Tell him you have two weeks to get this situation in hand before I send in the X-Men."

"I'll pass on the message," Logan promised her, holding out his hand. 

She handed him the file folder, noticeably slim, and left him sitting there, puffing on his cigar, beer getting warm beside him. He flipped through it, for whatever good it did. Time and date of the last phone call from Scott, transcript written down on a napkin in Emma's messy scrawl. At least Logan had a place to start: a latitude and longitude that placed Scott smack in the middle of fucking Iceland.

* * *

Logan flew into Keflavik, just outside of Reykjavik, with only a backpack and his wits. He rented a Land Rover, tossed his pack into the passenger seat, and then took off. He'd been given a GPS, but he preferred his trusty old paper map. It wasn't like the country was big enough to get lost in. Not by his standards anyway. 

He took the Ring Road for a while, counting waterfalls and stopping for the occasional piss or smoke. 

When he found the F-Road he was looking for, he turned onto it without slowing down. The few cars that had been on the road with him faded in the rear-view mirror, and then it was just him, a dirt road and the great outdoors, exactly as he liked it. He drove in the direction of the red X marked on his map. 

He didn't have a good idea of what he was looking for, assuming he would know it when he saw it, so when a dilapidated cabin appeared to his left, he veered off road and pulled around back. Turning off the vehicle, he listened through the open window for signs of life. Where there were none, he got out.

The cabin was in rough shape, missing siding and with a visible hole in the roof. Windows were cracked and dirty, caked over with dust. Logan checked the generator. Low on fuel, but enough for a couple hours of electricity. There was a shed big enough to fit a car, but it was empty save for grime.

He sniffed the air, catching the same two scents that had followed him all day: sheep and drizzly weather. Closing the door to the shed, he moved towards the cabin. The front door was unlocked, so he invited himself in, keeping it open behind him for the increase in light, whatever minor good that did. 

Logan inhaled again, the musty scent of the abandoned cabin mixed with shit and rain, but underneath it was something faintly familiar. Scott had used the same aftershave for as long as Logan had known him, same as the Professor's. Logan had always assumed he'd learn to shave from Chuck, hence the shared preference. It was a scent that marked Scott, a scent that Logan would recognize anywhere. 

So he'd been there for sure, at some point in recent memory, but not for a great many days, based on the weak strength of the smell. There were footprints in the dust on the floor, nothing Logan recognized by sight but close enough to Scott's shoe size that Logan had to assume they were one and the same. 

He looked over the entirety of the cabin, hunting for clues. In one of the corners, hidden in shadow and covered by an empty metal canister, he found a hole in the floor. Reaching into it, he pulled out a satellite phone. He powered it up to confirm it still had juice, but when he checked the call log, it'd been wiped. So Scott could have returned for it and hadn't. Not necessarily a bad sign but not a great one either.

It would have been nice if Scott had left a note, but since when had he ever made Logan's life easy?

Using the satellite phone, he sent a text message to Emma, confirming Scott had been there, then erased the log just like Scott had done and tucked it back into its hiding place. There was nothing else there. 

Logan went back to the SUV and opened his pack. He pulled out the blue briefs of his X-Men uniform – a healing factor didn't do shit for the initial jolt of a shot to the nuts – and the outfit he'd brought, all black to blend into the landscape, and a toque to cover his hair. Stripping down to his skin, he tugged on the briefs, followed by a knit sweater and cargo pants. He made extra sure his junk was well-settled.

Logan liked to be prepared for anything. It had saved his ass more than once over the years. 

Once he was done dressing, he balled up his civvies and pushed them to the bottom of his backpack. With a lighter, he set the file folder on fire, dropping it to the ground and letting it burn to embers. While it was still smouldering, he stomped his boot over the charred remains, putting it out completely. 

He went over and opened up the shed. Carefully, he backed in the SUV. Tucking the keys and his cellphone under the driver's seat, he got out and closed the shed door. He thought about leaving a note, just a brief _gone for a hike, don't steal or tow my shit,_ but he doubted anyone would come looking. 

Logan glanced around again. 

There were no tire tracks other than his. Scott must have come on foot, but that trail was long gone, washed away by the wet weather, so that left Logan with four directions to choose from. North, south, east or west. He'd come from the south, so he was confident he could rule that one out. The remaining three were a crapshoot, all viable options, but his gut said to try north first, so that was what he did.

* * *

Logan walked for a couple hours with nothing but his thoughts for company. He'd known Scott long enough to know that he could take care of himself, but it also wasn't like him to miss a check-in, not when other folks were counting on him to report. So maybe Logan could provide him with a little unexpected back-up, though he doubted Scott would be happy to see him, unless he really was in dire straits. 

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. As far as he knew, Scott was fine, just in over his head.

Until he found out otherwise, he'd work on that assumption. 

Mid-way through the third hour, Logan heard the approach of a vehicle. There wasn't much to hide behind, but he dropped to the ground, flat on his belly, and hoped he blended into the surroundings. It was the first car he'd seen since he'd started walking. Long after it disappeared from sight, he heard the engine rumbling, further and further away, until it cut off abruptly. _Bingo_ , Logan thought, pushing up. 

Keeping low, Logan moved towards the direction the engine had come from. There was no sign of the vehicle, which could mean a number of things, but the most likely was that it had gone underground. Logan pressed his ear to the earth, eyes closed, listening. He could hear the bubbling of water, near the surface, somewhere close, and then, just beyond that, the faint murmur of something man-made. 

Not much to go on, but it was a start. He just needed to find the entrance. 

He stayed there, flat on his belly, for another hour, listening and thinking, waiting for any sign of life beyond the truck he'd seen. He still had no idea what Scott had gotten himself into, except that he was undercover, and it was Logan's intention not to break that cover unless it was the only option left. 

Just who had Scott gotten himself in with? Logan had no clue. He could rule out the big bads – Sinister, Apocalypse, Magneto, that ilk – knowing that Scott, even disguised, would never fool any of them. So someone unknown, maybe multiple unknown someones, and probably mutants, if Scott was involved. 

After all this, Slim, you're gonna owe me a beer, Logan thought, and just kept on biding his time.

* * *

Once darkness settled, Logan got up and started exploring the area again, every sense keenly aware of his surroundings, brain furiously processing it all. This was the part of the job he enjoyed the most – skulking around, tracking his prey, ready to bust some heads at a moment's notice. Being part of a team had grown on him over the years, becoming a vital part of his life, but at his core, this was who he was.

After a handful of minutes searching, he finally found the entrance. 

That was just about the same time it all went to shit. 

There was a loud bang followed by a shock of light, painful against the blackness of the sky. A second after that, it felt like he was drowning, something liquid and suffocating sliding over his skin, and for a moment there, he was back in Cornelius's lab. It was the same feeling now, numbness spreading throughout his body, every sense muted except touch. He could still feel when the first boot struck him.

He couldn't even pop his claws. He wanted to, but it was like everything in his body had slowed, his thoughts, his blood, his bones. Whatever was on his face was dripping into every hole he had on it. His eyes stung, and he was blinded. His ears burned, and he was deafened. His nose and his mouth worked to suck in air, and pretty much just made it worse as the slimy liquid choked him and stole his breath.

Down on the ground, feeling every kick to his ribs, he added another beer to Scott's tally. 

Fucking Scott Summers and whatever mess he'd gotten them both into. Logan wasn't even surprised.

* * *

Eventually, they finished kicking the shit out of him and half-walked, half-dragged him underground. On the surface, it'd been drizzling and cool all day, the sort of chill that soaked into your bones and settled there. But now, under the green rolling hills and the black jagged rock, he felt overly warm. 

The ground cut into his shins and knees whenever he fell, which was often. At one point, they dropped him and stripped him down to his skivvies. A boot hit him square in the stones, the pain muted by the same briefs they were now punishing him for. In any other situation, he might've laughed. Instead, he was pretty much just pissed. Still couldn't pop his claws or fight back, and that pissed him off more. 

Someone wrenched his arms back, tying them behind his back, the bindings biting into his skin. 

They dragged him up and forward again, bringing him to a shallow staircase. He tripped on the first uneven step, and while he couldn't hear the laughter, he could _feel_ it. Two more steps and those went better. By the fourth, he was almost confident. He could sense heat on either side of him, different from the room temperature. He assumed it was fire, but for what? Light? Ambience?

Maybe, he thought with a twisted little smile as they reached the top, they were inviting him to a candlelight dinner.

That small gesture earned him another strike, the meaty wallop of a fist to the kidney. 

While he was still grimacing, he was forced to his knees. Nothing happened for a long time after that. 

Kneeling there, his senses started coming back. Not enough to make sense of his surroundings, but through the tears and the sting, he could see shadows he thought were people. Knew they were talking, even though he couldn't hear any words. His stuffed nose remained fucked, and who the hell knew what tongue was up to, that gooey poison still coating his mouth like wax. At least it wasn't permanent. 

Three beers, Logan thought grimly, for making him feel so uncomfortably vulnerable. 

Suddenly, a leather-covered finger dragged across his collar bone, and Logan startled for the first time in recent memory, feeling himself growl and jerk away. That same hand gripped his head, tilting it back as a thumb swept intimately along his jaw. This time, Logan stilled as all of the hair on his body rose.

Was that Scott's hand? He couldn't tell. His senses were still too muted. But he thought it might be. 

That or someone else had taken a liking to him.

Abruptly, the person let him go. Logan kept his head facing forward, his shoulders squared pridefully.

He got the sense people were arguing. About what, he had no fucking clue until bare fingers were pawing at him, yanking his briefs off. Had his eyes not been burning, he might've rolled them. But he still didn't lower his head. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction and had nothing to be ashamed of anyway.

More hands grabbed him, hauling him to his feet. He got his briefs back, returned with the same care and patience they'd been removed with, but that was it, clothing-wise. He tripped down the stairs this time, but he couldn't tell if he was flung or had simply fallen. The result was the same. His shoulder hit the ground hard, taking the brunt of his weight, and the unexpected jolt knocked the breath out of him.

After another slight delay – probably laughing at the fool whose best laid plans had gone to shit so quickly – he was pulled to his legs again. They walked him for a handful of minutes, paused, then walked him again, eventually pushing him to his knees. Something heavy like a chain was attached to the bindings around his wrists. He thought they left him alone then, but who the hell knew? 

Definitely not him.

* * *

Logan knelt there for a long while, his sense of time shot, but it had to be at least thirty minutes, if not longer. He tried to cough the gunk out of his throat, tried to snort it out of his nose. His ears felt like they had water in them, bubbling and uncomfortable. Whatever this shit was, it was fucking godawful.

That leather-covered hand from before touched his face suddenly. Logan didn't move a muscle. A warm, wet cloth smoothed over his mouth and below his nose. It held there for a minute, and he gladly took the opportunity to blow it. It was a better option than snorting the goop all over his lips and chin.

Once his nose was as clear it was going to get, the rapidly cooling cloth disappeared. Time passed and then it was back, warm again and hopefully free of snot. It passed over his eyes, followed by the pressure of a finger running carefully along his lash line. His eyes were still stinging like mad, his vision blurred. The leather-covered hand pressed two fingers under his chin and tilted his head back. 

When the water ran over his face, cool and cleansing, Logan bit back his sigh of relief. He patiently sat through three more rinses. Once it was clear no more were coming, he blinked. His vision was still cloudy, but at least his eyes weren't stinging anymore. The person moved away then, and Logan finally caught the scent of him and that old familiar aftershave mixed in with the scent of sweat and leather. 

_Scotty_.

Logan didn't react to him, not yet. First and foremost, he had no intention of blowing Scott's cover. He just sat there, ground cutting into his knees, as Scott returned a third time to clean his face. He rinsed Logan's ears, tipping his head to one side and then the other, pouring lukewarm water into each canal.

As his final act, he tipped a cup of water into Logan's mouth. A finger touched his cheek, which Logan assumed meant rinse and spit. He did that three times. On the fourth, that same finger touched his neck, and this time he swallowed, washing the back of his throat. He drank the entire glass of water, parched. 

"Didn't think he looked that delicate," a voice said, muffled but clear enough. He'd take his victories where he could get them. Logan continued blinking, his eyes watering as they tried to take care of the last of the residue. He could see the outline of this new guy, but Scott was out of his field of vision. 

"You just about drowned him," Scott replied. "I thought you'd be happy to see it in action."

"True. And for a prototype, I thought it worked remarkably well."

Scott made a grunt of agreement. He came back into Logan's line of sight. "Feeling better?" he asked, obviously to Logan, who nodded. Scott leaned into him, and Logan saw for the first time what he looked like – head-to-toe red leather, except for the exposed bits around his mouth, upper arms, chest and thighs. Logan couldn't see the details, but the contrast was high between his skin and the leather. 

_Fucking Erik the Red_ , Logan thought, a little dazed, biting back the laugh in his throat. 

The other guy was watching them, breath held in anticipation, and that was the only warning Logan got before Scott was kissing him, tongue slicking in between his lips. Shock streaked down his spine like lightning, a momentary flash that he immediately stamped out. It was a good cover, a workable one, and Logan quickly set to returning the kiss with equally believable passion. He pushed up to his knees, bending into Scott as he faked desperation. Scott's fingers twisted in his hair and tilted his head back.

"I told you not to come find me," Scott murmured, kissing him again, softer this time. One of Scott's leather-covered hands stroked over Logan's bare belly, teasingly low, and Logan let himself start to get hard, reacting to the pleasure of Scott's knowing touch. He shifted his hips so his hard-on was obvious. 

It got the result Logan wanted. "Ugh, get a fucking room," the other guy said with a snort of disgust. 

"I'd be happy to," Scott replied, pulling back. He smirked slightly. "But I'm being cock-blocked."

The other guy scoffed. "It's no skin off my back either way. Just nobody expected your ex-boyfriend..."

"Ain't an ex," Logan growled.

Scott's smirk deepened. "What he said. And I'd be careful around him. He bites."

"You sure know how to pick them, Erik," the guy said, shaking his head, fond and amused. Logan glared at him, though he was still too far away to be anything but an average-sized blur. Scott seemed comfortable enough around him. "You planning on keeping the chains on him? It's a good look." 

"It depends on if he behaves or not," Scott replied.

The guy barked a sharp laugh. "Fair enough. They're still going to verify his identity."

"I wouldn't waste my time here if they weren't smart enough to do the bare minimum," Scott replied. He kept his fingers on the back of Logan's neck, brushing over the skin there, as Logan continued staring the guy down, playing his role as the overzealous lover. It was as good a cover as any. 

"I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. I'll be back once he checks out."

The guy left, shutting the door behind him. Ears almost back to normal, Logan heard the heavy thunk of a lock. Scott didn't react to the sound, which didn't mean he hadn't heard it, just that he'd been expecting it. Whatever story Scott had spun while Logan was out of commission must have been a doozy.

Logan didn't have to ask if the room was bugged. He could tell, just by looking at Scott standing there.

"Missed you, darlin'," Logan said softly, letting his gaze slide slowly over Scott's lean body, openly appreciative. His bare thighs, in particular, drew Logan's attention. It'd been a while, but his body remembered how it felt, sharing a look with a guy interested in a fuck, maybe something a little more. 

"I told you not to come find me," Scott said again, expression impossible to read. 

Logan could feel the heat radiating off Scott's exposed skin. Was he embarrassed? Turned on? A bit of both or something else entirely? When it came to who he got his rocks off with, Logan was flexible, always had been, but he realized he had no idea where Scott landed on the spectrum. So far he was doing a pretty good job at convincing whoever was watching that he wanted to fuck Logan's brains out.

But Scott had always held his cards close to his chest, his poker face second to none. It was just as likely he was a good actor, ready to step up and play the part, especially if it helped mutant-kind. Logan still didn't know the full story of why Scott was here in the first place, only that it had to be a good one. 

Scotty wouldn't be here, in the middle of nowhere Iceland, for anything less. 

And just like that, Logan decided it didn't matter. This was the bed Scott had made, and now they both had to lie in it, literally _and_ figuratively. This wasn't how Logan had thought his day would go, but he was rolling with it, like always. They had a fucking job to do, and Logan would see that it got done.

* * *

They left them there for hours. Eventually, Scott pulled a chair away from the wall and sat down. He leaned back, legs spread, one hand pressed to his mouth. Now that his vision had cleared, Logan could see the rest of the get-up in detail. As vibrantly red as he'd thought but with an unexpected amount of buckles and straps, revealing as much as they hid. Logan's eyes were drawn to three areas: chest, crotch and thighs. Scott should have looked ridiculous, especially with the horns. He didn't. Not even close. 

Arousal curled low in Logan's belly, real and heady and warm. 

In any other circumstance, this might've led to a fun night. 

Before he could say anything to that extent, just to rile Scott up a little, the door opened. Two men and a woman walked in, as outlandishly dressed as Scott was. _What the fuck have you gotten us into, Slim?_ he wondered, keeping his expression amused, like his first urge wasn't to slice them all to ribbons. 

"Well?" Scott asked, sounding bored. 

"Much to my surprise, his story aligns with our intel," the woman said. "He can stay but do keep him on a short leash, won't you?"

"Always do," Scott replied, words thick with innuendo. He looked at Logan, who grinned back, happy to confirm whatever yarn Scott wanted to spin. Anything to get some alone time with Scott and these manacles off his wrists. Maybe they'd even give him his fucking clothes back. A man could dream.

* * *

Until then, Logan thought he had taken everything Scott and his merry band of villains had thrown at him with a surprising amount of aplomb. He'd assumed – wrongfully, it turned out – that he'd finally get some time with Scott, but instead, they marched him into a long hall with a table down the centre.

"Whoever has the key, uncuff him," Scott said, adding a sharp, " _now_ ," when it didn't happen by magic.

The original nameless guy tsked. "Impatient. We weren't going to force him to eat directly off the plate like an animal."

Scott made no move to hide his annoyance, which wasn't nearly as much as the situation demanded, in Logan's humble opinion. By his calculations, Scott had been gone for over a month, and if this was the sort of outlandish, hoity-toity bullshit he'd had to put up with day in and day out, it was a wonder he hadn't already levelled the place and hitched a ride home. At this point, Logan figured Scott owed him almost an entire case of beer, and he was confident, by the end of dinner, it'd be the full two-four. 

It wasn't just the solid gold utensils or the fact literal henchmen were skulking about like something out of a comic book. It wasn't that they preferred fire over electricity. It wasn't even the costumes or the masks or the menacing conversation held over bowls of lobster bisque. It was the fact they forced him to sit there and endure all of that shit. How had Scotty not lost his temper yet? It was a fucking miracle. 

"Mind your manners," Scott had said at one point, bland, looking down at him. 

Logan had been tempted to stick a claw into his meaty thigh, but he'd resisted. The only thing Scott had going for him right then were those thighs, and Logan sure as hell wasn't going to do anything to mar them. Instead, he just bit back his grumble and added beer after beer to Scott's quickly growing tally.

Forget one case of beer. This dinner alone had doubled the tally. 

And to add insult to injury, the motherfuckers hadn't given him his clothes back either. 

By the time the dessert course was taken away, Logan was close to just settling the whole thing the good old fashioned way, but then Scott put a hand over the back of his neck and squeezed. "If you'll excuse us," Scott said, pushing his chair away from the table, the legs screeching over the stone floor.

"You must be eager to get reacquainted," the guy from before said, lifting his wine glass. 

"He's had a rough day," Scott replied, nudging at Logan to move. Logan would have cartwheeled out if it had gotten him away from that room sooner. They left to a chorus of knowing chuckles. Logan gritted his teeth, and Scott's fingers tightened on his neck. "Behave yourself," he murmured softly. 

"Whatever you say, darlin'." 

Two cases weren't even going to begin to scratch the surface of what Scott would owe him by the end.

Logan had never been surer of anything in his entire life.

* * *

Scott took him to a sparsely decorated bedroom, the king-sized canopy bed its most prominent feature. Logan stood by the door as Scott stepped inside, stopping in the middle. He heaved a weighty exhale. Eyes as clear as they had been all day, Logan could see the tension held in Scott's body clearly now. 

"The room's clean," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "But there's no lock on the door."

"Hallway's clear," Logan replied, watching as Scott opened a wardrobe and pulled out a robe. He tossed it at Logan, who caught it and put it on. It was silky and sexy and good for nothing except basic coverage. He felt a bit like a buffoon wearing it, but he figured that just meant he fit right in here. 

"Are you okay?"

"Been worse," Logan said with a shrug. "But unhinged lover, Slim? That was the best you could do?"

"Don't even start," Scott warned him. He sounded tired. Logan wondered when he had last slept. This was a familiar Scott, one he usually only saw after a long mission and a lot of unnecessary shit. This was the Scott who would sit in silence with him and drink. "I needed to explain why anyone would go through the effort of hunting me down to the middle of fucking Iceland. It's better than the alternative."

"Fair enough." Logan cinched the robe closed with the belt. "Do you think they believed the story?"

"I don't know," Scott admitted, sitting down on the bed. "They haven't killed me yet."

Logan snorted. "This gong show?"

"Don't let the pomp and circumstance fool you," Scott replied, eyes fixed on his hands. He _had_ been in trouble, Logan realized. Out of his depth, in over his head, whatever. "Even if they look and behave like idiots, these people are dangerous. What they're doing is dangerous. They have to be stopped."

"Just tell me when. I'm itching for a fight after all that nonsense."

"Not yet," Scott said wearily. He looked up suddenly. "I should have known she would have sent you."

Logan shrugged. "You know what they say. I'm the best there is at what I do."

"You're the only one who says that," Scott replied, cracking a hint of a smile, huffing at his own joke. Logan would let him have it, on account of all the bullshit he'd been forced to swallow for weeks. Scott wasn't someone who suffered fools easily. Logan had always liked that about him. "I can't leave yet."

"This ain't a rescue mission," Logan assured him. "Just here to back you up. We got two weeks."

"It'll take them less than that to figure out who you are."

"My cover will hold," Logan replied with a shrug. "Been playing this game a lot longer than you have."

"And if, for some reason, it doesn't?" 

"Then we better get to work, eh?" Tearing his attention away from Scott in that red leather get-up, Logan looked around the room. Other than the bed and the wardrobe, there wasn't much to speak of. A single chair, a sheepskin rug, a plant he couldn't name. No chains on the wall though, which Logan took as a plus. "Hey, is there a washroom in this joint or are there communal showers in my future?"

Scott gestured towards the wardrobe. Approaching with skepticism, especially after the day he'd had, Logan found a doorway with a heavy wooden door. Leaving Scott sitting there on the bed, hunched over, he took a quick piss then turned on the water in the shower. He shrugged out of the useless robe, leaving it in a silky pile on the ground. Once the room was nice and steamy, he pulled off his briefs. 

He spent the next fifteen minutes scrubbing his body raw. He felt out of sorts, a little sore, a little tired. Whatever that goo had been, it had sure done a number on him. He wasn't healing as fast, his skin still tender where those goons had kicked the crap out of him. The only part that didn't ache were his balls.

* * *

Once he was as clean as he could be, he towelled off. He washed his briefs in the sink and hung them up to dry before padding back into the room. He climbed onto the bed, buck naked, and collapsed on the side of the mattress that smelled the least like Scott. He was eager to write the whole day off and try again tomorrow. It was clear Scott wanted to continue the debrief, but it could wait till morning.

"Later," Logan muttered into the pillow when Scott still hadn't moved. He lifted his head to glare. There was zero chance his instincts were going to let him sleep, even if it was just Scott doing the staring. "Just need some shut-eye. Bug me tomorrow. What the hell did those bozos dose me with?" 

"An untested bio-weapon," Scott replied tightly.

Logan closed his eyes. "Sounds about right."

Scott changed the subject. "Are you planning on getting dressed?"

"Nope," Logan confirmed. "You said so yourself. Door ain't locked. And I thought we'd made it pretty clear we were going back here for our happy reunion." He sniffed at the air. It smelled primarily like sulphur and Scott's old man aftershave. "You better hope none of those idiots have enhanced senses."

"They don't." 

"Good," Logan said, rubbing his face over the pillow. Scott had used this one less, but it still stunk of him, faint, like a breeze. Probably hadn't been sleeping too well, tossing and turning, when his body was at its most vulnerable. Hopefully, he'd sleep better now. "Too tired to let you fuck me for real." 

Scott made a sound in his throat somewhere between consternation and something that Logan couldn't place. It'd gotten a rise out of him, figuratively anyway, which had been Logan's intention. He knew that Scott was probably deep in his own head, and Logan had always been good at getting him out of it.

"We don't have to go that far," Scott said, exactly like the Boy Scout Logan knew him to be. 

"Probably not," Logan agreed gamely. 

Scott sighed, annoyed, and Logan got a little more comfortable, his work done. He heard Scott start to undo the buckles on his chest harness. Heard the boots thump to the ground. Heard Scott hang everything up in the wardrobe. The mattress sunk as he settled on it. Logan turned onto his side and looked at Scott, who still had the red horned mask on. Scott's mouth had thinned into a troubled line.

Logan thought about offering Scott platitudes, ranging from _I got your back, Scotty_ to _I'll suck your dick with that menagerie watching if it comes to that_ , but why state the obvious? They were X-Men. They didn't always get along, butted heads more often than not, but they played for the same team. 

Scott shifted on the bed, flat on his back, horns keeping him in place. A blowjob probably _would_ have relaxed him, but it wasn't the right time for that. If it ever would be. And Logan was fairly confident, after so many years together, it was never gonna happen. Logan always knew when people were attracted to him. It was a talent. Even if they shared a preference, Logan could suss out lies with the best of them, so unless Scott was the best liar he knew, that path was a dead end.

* * *

Logan slept like a baby. 

Being this deep underground was playing hell on his internal clock, which was already off by four hours, so he had no idea what time it was when he woke the first time, just that Scott was still asleep beside him, the space between them reduced to nothing. Logan hadn't been sure the night before, but Scott was definitely in the buff, the length of his naked body comfortable and warm. Still didn't smell like they had fucked, but two naked guys in bed, all pressed up together, usually only meant one thing. 

Logan let himself fall back asleep, promising to get up when Scott did and not a minute sooner. 

What followed was an annoyingly short interlude to full wakefulness. 

They both jolted awake when the door opened, and one of the men – the one who hadn't had anything to do with Logan yesterday – burst into the room. If he'd been hoping to catch them in a compromising position, either as proof of their bullshit or for his own personal jollies, he was sorely disappointed. 

Scott didn't look at all surprised by the invasion of privacy. "What do you want?" he asked, voice rough with sleep. It had been hot enough in the room that the blankets had ended up at their feet, and somehow, intentional or not, Scott's hand had ended up curled intimately over Logan's bare ass.

"You missed the morning debrief," the man said. 

"Sorry. Kept him up too late," Logan replied, stretching a little, making a show of it. He grinned at Scott, but it was Scott who kissed him, all filthy and wet and open-mouthed. It was exactly the sort of kiss that usually got Logan's motor running, so it was easy to respond exactly the way he needed to. 

The guy glared at them. "If you're done...?"

Scott stood up and pulled on the silky robe. "Fine," he said blandly. "If you insist."

Getting out of bed and padding naked to the washroom, he left Scott to deal with the asshole alone. Logan would happily play his part, but the less bureaucratic crap he had to deal with, the better. He sat on the toilet for a while, listening to Scott and the blowhard talk about some trial run being planned. 

He was a little foggy on the details, but it sounded exactly like the sort of shit they were there to stop.

* * *

Logan spent the rest of the day as Scott's shadow, getting up to speed. His clothes had been returned to him, blood stains and all, so at least he didn't have to hang around in his underwear. Not that any shade of nudity had ever bothered him, but with the rest of them dressed up like it was Halloween, he had felt under-dressed. Their costumes could be split into four unique groupings: red, white, green and yellow.

He filed that away to ask about later. 

Logan could tell the others weren't thrilled about his presence, but from what he could gather, Scott was the one they deferred to for final decisions. He had that way about him, Logan supposed. Maybe, in time, Logan would be allowed to wander freely, but he wasn't going to push his luck, not yet. Their cover story was flimsy, bordering on unlikely, but so far so good. He just needed to focus on his task.

He touched Scott as often as he could. Leaned into his space, gave him secret smiles, kissed him plenty. Scott took it all and gave it right back. He guessed it paid to have been living in each other's pockets for years. He knew every one of Scott's tells, could follow his lead without needing words. He had never really thought about it in that light before, but now, playing this part, it was all he could think about.

He was more physically aware of Scott than he had ever been in his life. 

Logan's eyes kept being drawn back to his thighs, thicker than he remembered. He'd been calling him Slim for almost a decade, but the name had stopped fitting years ago. Still slender, especially compared to some of the beefcakes they hung with, but a lot more solid. Scott had grown into his lanky body. 

And it was a nice body. He filled out that costume well. Logan had his types, and hot guys in leather were one of them. So, yeah, it wasn't a hardship to pretend he wanted to bone – or be boned by – Scott. He still didn't know what Scott thought about the whole set-up, but he responded in all the right ways.

Didn't matter anyway. Scotty was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

* * *

Dinner had Logan back to wanting to kill each and every one of them with painful precision, but the food was good, some of the best he'd ever eaten, and Scott didn't shrug him off when Logan put his hand on his thigh, centimetres away from his crotch. He was aiming for possessive instead of horn-dog, though he had no idea how successful he was one way or the other. Scott's bare skin radiated heat.

It also had the added benefit of being able to keep his head down and listen as they spoke. 

Some honestly brutal shit came out of their mouths. Stuff that shocked even him, and it was made worse by the casual amusement in their voices. The worst part was that the only one lying was Scott. It wasn't that he had doubted what Scott had said about them, but it was another thing entirely to witness it for himself. Mutant lives treated like garbage had always pissed him off. This was no exception.

He spent the entire dessert round fighting with his baser instincts. Scott's thigh kept him grounded. 

"Jesus, Slim," Logan breathed once they'd returned to their room. He had a powerful craving for a cigar that he ignored, but he felt antsy, like his skin was crawling. He'd barely held it together by the end. 

"I know," Scott replied, sitting down heavily in the chair. He rubbed a hand briskly over his face.

Logan took the bed. After basically sitting in Scott's lap all day, it felt strange with a room's length of space between them. Oh well, he thought, leaning back on his arms. They'd have plenty of closeness through the night. Just had to fill the time until then. "How the hell did you get tangled up in this?" 

Scott edged a finger under his mask, speaking as he worked it around. Logan narrowed his eyes but didn't comment. Not yet anyway. "The usual way. I couldn't sleep, and while I was catching up on some things, I intercepted a message. It was a riddle, and I, unfortunately, solved it." He switched his finger to the other side, still rubbing at his skin. "I should have just stuck to my crossword puzzle." 

"Where's the fun in that?" Logan asked, watching Scott's hand. "And Slim, if you have fucking lice..."

Even though his eyes were obscured by the mask, Logan knew he was glaring. "It's not lice."

"You're acting like it's lice."

"I just haven't washed my hair in a while."

"Then get your ass in there right now," Logan said. "I'll watch your back."

It didn't take Scott long to find out that Logan had meant that literally. Standing in the doorway of the washroom, Logan leaned against the jamb, arms crossed, splitting his attention between the door to the room and Scott tentatively feeling around in the shower, his oily hair sticking up in undignified tufts.

"Might want to comb that mop first," Logan suggested with a smirk. "Beginning to resemble me."

Scott exhaled as his fingers finally curled over the temperature knobs. He made a sound of pleasure when the water turned on, spraying over his head. "I'm fully capable of taking a shower," Scott told him, chin tucked to his neck, the water sluicing down his back. "You don't have to keep watch."

"Don't worry. I've only got one eye on the door."

Scott fumbled with the shampoo bottle before figuring it out. "Where's your other eye?"

"Where do you think?" Logan asked, knowing his grin was clear in his voice. Scott snorted, hands working the soap into his hair. Logan would have gladly helped Scott out if he had only asked, but Scott had never been that kind of guy. "Gotta make sure you don't drown in there and leave me alone."

"Consider that your punishment for volunteering."

"Pretty sure I was conscripted. Could have been worse, though. She could have sent the Cajun." 

Scott snorted again, turning around to rinse his hair, head tipped back. Logan's eyes slid down to his cock. He'd seen Scott buck a hundred times before, but he'd never _looked_ , not like this. He couldn't say it was entirely altruistic, though if he was going to successfully pretend he was familiar with Scott's dick, it wouldn't hurt to know the finer details, like what side he dressed on and if he was uncut. 

Left and yes were the answers to those questions. Logan tucked that information neatly away.

Eventually, Scott finished up his shower. Logan watched as he towelled himself dry, spending the most time on his hair. While he was still damp, he pulled the mask back on, eyes once again visible through the red, glass-covered holes. It was an ingenious disguise, in Logan's opinion. Hiding in plain sight.

"What were you gonna if they made you take that thing off?" Logan asked, watching him. 

"I have no idea," Scott admitted with a wry twist of his lips, and Logan couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

If Logan had been another man, he might've questioned how easily he fell into the role of Scott's lover.

He'd had undercover missions before where the cover had hung over him like an ill-fitting suit, but this wasn't one of them. He wasn't even trying all that hard. The easy part was letting his body react. Scott was a good-looking guy, and Logan was lucky the costume he'd settled on was the thing wet dreams were made of. The rest basically drilled down one fact: Scott was a guy he would walk through fire for.

And he had, in the past, done just that. And he'd do it every time it was asked of him. Shot at, beaten, burned. Tossed around, dropped, stabbed. Healing factor aside, none of that was pleasant in the moment, and even though he always walked away, it didn't mean it didn't hurt like shit every time. 

Pretending he was just pretending to want to fuck Scott was a walk in the park comparatively. 

The only thing giving him the creeps were the people Scott had surrounded himself with.

* * *

With a start, Logan awoke. His fingers curled into the sheet, fighting against popping his claws. Scott was moulded against his back, slick with sweat. He had an arm over Logan's waist, their bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces. His cock was nestled between Logan's ass cheeks as if it belonged there.

And he was still asleep, snoring softly in Logan's ear, so it wasn't him that had put Logan immediately on alert.

Shifting his eyes to the door, Logan instantly identified the culprit. It was the same man from yesterday morning, dressed head-to-toe in yellow, standing in the doorway as he watched them sleep. Logan had skewered people for less, but as long as Scott still felt like he had unfinished business, he'd hold back. 

But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. 

Their eyes met in the darkness and held there, and then the guy smiled and touched two fingers to his forehead in some mockery of a salute. Yeah, Logan thought, watching as the guy turned away with a smile, dragging the door shut behind him as he left. That guy would be first when the time came.

Scott woke at the closing of the door. "What?" he said roughly, making moves to pull away. 

"Nothing to worry about, darlin'," Logan assured him, folding his hand over Scott's and reeling him back in. The guy was still in the hallway, breathing noisily, and Logan didn't know what the fuck he was waiting for, just that it likely wasn't anything good. "I'm just jumping at shadows," he added. 

Scott, who had been sleeping like the dead, allowed himself to be talked back into it. It spoke to his exhaustion that Scott just snuggled in tighter, finding whatever space they had between them and filling it in. Scott's hips shifted slightly, his dick pressing more firmly against Logan's ass. Knowing the guy was listening, Logan remained still, earning himself a low, throaty groan over the back of his neck.

His own cock plumped up, interested. He ignored it. 

Logan listened, focussing on the sound of the guy's breath and not the small little moan on Scott's lips. Eventually, the guy moved away, appeased, and left them there alone. Carefully, Logan rolled Scott over onto his back, trying not to wake him and mostly succeeding. But within minutes, Scott plastered himself to Logan's back again, heavy cock returned to its preferred spot between Logan's ass cheeks.

* * *

The next morning, as they got dressed, Scott tried to apologize. "I haven't been sleeping well," he admitted. Hunched over, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, the red leather contraption clutched in his hands. Usually, when Logan left a guy looking that rumpled in his bed, there weren't any sorries. 

Logan tugged up the zipper on his pants. "You think I don't know that, Slim?"

"Yes, but..."

"Does it look like I'm complaining?" Logan asked, cutting him off. It was a rhetorical question, but he didn't continue until Scott looked up and acknowledged it. "I ain't. If I had problems with it, you'd know. Have you ever seen me hold my tongue about anything you do when I think it's bullshit?"

Scott frowned. "No," he admitted reluctantly. 

Logan yanked on his shirt. "There you go. 'Sides, it sold the story. We had a visitor last night."

Logan gave him the run down as Scott started pulling on his outfit. Logan would be the first to admit he found it distracting. It was a good thing he didn't have much to say. But the costume fit Scott like a glove, flattering parts that didn't need more flattering. Was it the original? He thought it had to be. The leather looked new, barely worn, but maybe it was something that only came out for special occasions. 

"How long was he standing there?" Scott asked, knocking Logan out of his thoughts. 

"Your guess is as good as mine," Logan replied with a shrug. "Long enough to get an eyeful."

Scott's expression tightened. "Great."

"Whatever they're hoping to catch me at, whatever this game is, I ain't playing."

"It's not you they distrust. It's me," Scott admitted, tension in every line of his face. At least the parts of it that Logan could see. He was used to not seeing Scott's eyes and having to rely on the micro-expressions his face made, but his mask made even that hard as hell. "They resent my presence here."

"I think they can just tell you ain't like them."

Scott pressed his lips together. He was still wound as tight as a spring. When had it started going off the rails? The moment Scott had gotten there or had he at least had a day or two before it began to unravel? Not everyone was made for undercover work. There was a reason Logan was usually the one to do it. 

"So what are you saying? I shouldn't even try?" Scott asked, after a long pause. 

"Don't put words in my mouth, Slim. What I'm saying is you can't change a man's nature, even when he's undercover. You ain't got a cruel bone in your body, but that doesn't mean you being here is a waste. Jumping feet first into an unwinnable situation and coming out on top anyway is what we do." 

Scott sighed. He scrubbed a hand briskly over his mouth. Way too fucking tense for a guy who was supposed to be getting laid on the regular, Logan thought, eyes sweeping over his body. Weight of the world on his shoulders, like always. Logan stopped ogling Scott and stepped up behind him instead. 

"Sit your ass down," Logan said brusquely. "You're too fucking tall."

"What are you doing?" Scott asked, looking back over his shoulder, but Logan just pushed him down onto the chair. The bed would have been better but baby steps. The second Scott was sitting on his ass, Logan dug his thumbs into the rock-hard muscles that lined his shoulders, edging under the red leather costume. Easier to do this naked, like some of the other options, but he'd take what he could get.

Scott groaned with pure, unadulterated relief. 

Logan grinned. "Good for something other than shish kabobs, eh?"

"You don't have to," Scott said faintly, exhaling as Logan hit a particularly tight spot. 

"Protest all you want, darlin'. I can smell a lie."

"I'm fine," Scott insisted, even as he melted under Logan's fingers. That was how Logan needed him to look: boneless, like he'd just been fucked good and well. Logan kept working at him, rubbing out every knot he found, until Scott was loose and sated beneath him, slunk deep in the chair, legs spread wide. 

Better, Logan thought later, once he was done, giving Scott one last long look. Not perfect, but better.

* * *

Logan spent his day like he'd spent the ones before: learning, listening, flirting with Scott. His short leash felt like a noose, but he knew enough not to press it, especially with Scott's cover stretched so thin. He could see the points of friction between Scott and the others clear as day. At the heart of it all, Scott cared too much. Always had, with so many people counting him to carry them forward. It was different here, on account of the lack of humanity in the players. They all sensed it. Logan could tell.

But Scott was a danger to them. Just because they didn't recognize it in him didn't mean he wasn't.

Whatever happened, they'd deserve it. He just hoped Scott could hold out till then. 

Logan considered, briefly, giving Scott permission to be cruel to him, but he dismissed it just as quickly. Scott wouldn't go for the idea, not as long as the ruse still worked, broken and contentious as it was. But Logan felt useless. This wasn't his usual style, sitting back and waiting. He wasn't good at it. 

And fuck, he needed a smoke. And some beer from one of the many cases Scott owed him. And maybe a hockey game on TV. 

He needed these things like Scott needed to get laid. 

All of Logan's hard work getting him to relax vanished with a yelling match over shit Logan hadn't been paying much attention to. He blamed Scott's get-up, all that red leather and bare skin. He needed to get laid, too. That was obvious. As if drooling over Scott Summers hadn't been the first indication. 

He let it go on, hoping it would blow over on its own. Scott had plenty of experience with juggling a load of personalities clashing at once. Logan had used to entertain himself, waiting for that one vein in Scott's forehead to start throbbing the closer he got pushed to his breaking point, but Logan could count on one hand the number of times Scott had actually lost his composure. He was skirting that now.

"Darlin'," Logan piped up suddenly, voice rich and honey-sweet, channelling as much of the Cajun as he could. He'd seen how easy Remy could slip out of a bad situation using only his smooth voice. Scott and his sparring partner paused, turning to gawk, and Logan smiled. "I could do with some fresh air."

The guy Scott had been arguing with – Logan really needed names for this crew of idiots, even if he ultimately didn't give a shit who they were – lifted his hands placatingly. "Far be it from me to waste any more of your... paramour's time. Especially when he's being such a selfishly stubborn asshole."

"One of his best qualities," Logan replied with a smirk, ignoring Scott's glare of disapproval.

On their way out, Logan bummed a pack of smokes and a lighter off a surprised henchman, who passed it over with the shame of someone pretending to be a non-smoker around his friends. Alcohol was probably pushing his luck, but if he had caught a whiff of it on someone's breath, he would have gone for it. At least the food was good – he'd been living on a steady diet of lamb, yogurt and volcano bread.

All said, he'd had worse vacations. Other than the people, he couldn't really complain. 

Once they were outside – eyes on them from every direction, of course – he immediately lit up.

"Want one?" Logan asked, tilting the pack at Scott, who lifted a hand and shook his head. 

"Since when have I ever smoked?" 

"First time for everything," Logan replied, cracking a half-grin as he brought the cigarette to his lips. 

They walked for a while, brushing up against each other. Scott's hand eventually found his free one, and he twined their fingers together. Logan huffed slightly, smoke billowing out of his nostrils, but it just added to the scene: a couple of guys out for a stroll, watched from afar like they were courting.

The landscape just made it more surreal. He'd never seen anything like it before. Pretty in a strange way, like he was on another planet entirely. Against the mossy green background, Scott stood out like a Christmas ornament in that red leather get-up. No wonder they had caught onto his off-site jaunts.

If they had ever trusted Scott. None of them, except maybe that first guy, seemed to like him at all.

"Calmed down?" Logan asked after fifteen minutes. He was tempted to keep strolling like they were, Scott's hand warm in his, but he couldn't stomach circling the same patch of dirt again. Instead, he guided them towards a rocky out-crop to sit. With a deep sigh, Scott dropped down beside him. 

"I'm embarrassed you had to see that."

"Eh, you're human like the rest of us, even if you like pretending otherwise." Logan took a deep inhale on the cigarette, letting the smoke build in his mouth before blowing it out in rings. Not as satisfying as a cigar, but it did in a pinch. "That guy seems like a particular brand of asshole. Does he have a name?" 

"He does, but you aren't going to like it."

"You got my interest," Logan replied, grinning a bit. "Got something to do with the colours he wears?"

"Colonel Mustard," Scott said, sounding pained, and it took every bit of strength Logan had not to groan. Of course that was his fucking name. "He prefers to be called the Colonel. The woman is Snow White – Snow – and the other man is the Green Knight. G.K. for short. And I'm Erik the fucking Red." 

"I should have looked harder for that beer."

Scott made a pained noise, like he knew exactly how ridiculous this whole thing was, but if Logan had learned anything over the years, cringe-worthy names didn't mean shit when it came to the nature of the people behind them. He'd seen enough to understand that, stupid names aside, they were dangerous. 

"There's a fifth person," Scott said, looking out over the terrain as Logan finished up his cigarette. 

"Hold that thought," Logan replied, snuffing the smoke out in the dirty. He leaned into Scott, putting a hand on his inner thigh, palming the bare skin there. Instinctively, Scott turned to him, breath hot on the side of Logan's neck. "Prying eyes," he murmured, aware of the contraption pointed at them and the excited murmur of the guys setting it up. "Kiss me like you mean it, Slim. Whisper sweet nothings."

Scott pressed his lips to Logan's. He knew he still tasted of smoke, but Scott didn't complain. Just kissed him gently, like Logan was some virgin he was sweet on. Suited him just fine, but they had an audience, and the audience expected a rougher, filthier sort of treatment, especially in plain view. 

"You gotta do better than that," Logan muttered, rubbing his palm over Scott's thigh, knowing what it would look like to the crew behind them: a guy who had been so hot for his man that he'd found a needle in the wilderness. "Unless you want my hand on you for real, you gotta make them believe."

Scott shuddered at Logan's words, all the tension that had built up in him springing out with a jolt. He consumed Logan's mouth, all tongue and lips and passion. His fingers pressed over the pulse in Logan's neck. A part of him was sorry that Scott had called his bluff. He wanted to know if Scott was even a little bit hard. Suspected he was, just like Logan himself, and that the nicest thought he'd had all day.

He sat there as Scott alternated between devouring him with kisses and whispering the debrief Logan should have asked for days ago and hadn't. The Scott he had found had been too close to coming undone, and Logan had needed to fix that first, but now, firmly back in the role he had made for himself, Scott told him about the fifth person, a woman named Shy Violet because of fucking course she was, and how he still didn't know her identity, and that until he did, he couldn't stop any of this. 

They were two sides of the same coin, the beginning and the end, the tactician and the logistician, with the other three – scientists playing with their cruel toys – in the space between them, wide as a canyon, and Scott alone there to stop the chain before it reached the end and went public. Before mutants died. 

It was about as fucked up as Logan had figured, but Scott wasn't alone. Not anymore and never again.

* * *

Several days of tedium followed. Now that Logan knew exactly who and what he was dealing with, there was even less for him to do. His freedom of movement ended the minute Scott was out of sight. This wasn't his usual style, waiting around and tolerating fools, but it was what the job called for. 

So he'd do it. Begrudgingly, but he'd do it. 

Unlike the living quarters' side of the compound, the working area was a bright, blinding white. Scott's office had floor-to-ceiling windows on every side, visible from the workstations around it. Logan felt like they were in a fishbowl, gawked at from all directions like rare and exotic fish. He spent most of his time on the couch, poking at a ratty book of crossword puzzles that Scott had reluctantly given up.

The alternative was acknowledging his surroundings. He fucking hated scientists and their labs. 

He didn't have many memories, good or bad, but the one he had of a place just like this was the worst.

Every day, they took lunch together. Every day, they went outside so Logan could smoke a cigarette.

Between these two things, Logan kept his head on straight, sanity straining but mercifully intact. 

Out of the corner of his eye – and, being honest, stumped by the puzzles – he often watched Scott as he worked. He was familiar enough with Scott's thought process to recognize something was off in the notes he was scrawling over a whiteboard in a rainbow of dry-erase markers. Not that anything looked wrong, exactly, but just that the conclusions Scott was making weren't the ones Scott usually made. 

Huh, Logan thought, once he noticed the pattern, keeping his expression bland and uninterested, pen dangling uselessly from his fingers. Maybe Scotty was better at this than he had given him credit for.

Sometimes, Scott came over to the couch, and Logan lifted his legs so Scott could squeeze underneath him. Half the time he stole the book of puzzles back, looking over Logan's work and making corrections, but sometimes he just sat there, a hand curved around Logan's bare ankle, eyes fixed on his whiteboards, deep in thought. In profile, he looked older than he was, with so much of his face hidden.

Handsome in that serious way of his. Always on duty, never a second of rest, not for a man like him.

No wonder Jeannie had fallen in love with him. It was almost impossible not to. 

Once, he caught Logan staring at him. "Do I have something on my face?" he asked.

"Just admiring the view, darlin'," he murmured with a slight smile. He wiggled his foot in Scott's lap, then almost jumped when Scott lunged over him, without warning, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. The thrill of the unexpected had always gotten him riled up, and this was no exception. 

He caught glimpses of their audience in his peripheral vision, momentarily distracted from whatever menace they were concocting at that moment, then closed his eyes, focussing on the heat of Scott's mouth and the press of his tongue. Logan dug his fingers into the leather of Scott's costume, using the straps to hold on. Logan had put on only his pants that morning. It'd been too hot to tolerate a shirt. 

Scott kissed him thoroughly for a good, long while. Logan let his cock get hard, knowing his pants wouldn't do shit to hide his arousal. In other circumstances, it would have gotten his blood pumping to know he was being watched as he got turned on. It wasn't something he'd partaken in often, but occasionally, when the situation arose, he had indulged. So in this context, he could easily fake it. 

Because this wasn't real. This was just a job they had to get done and a role they had to play.

Logan would do well to remember that. No matter how good it felt. No matter how far they pushed it.

* * *

Time was ticking away, and they were no closer to discovering the identity of the last player. Logan sat through too many inane dinners, each one increasingly worse. He ranked each of them in his head: The Colonel, the worst of them and definitely the one he would skewer first when the time came. G.K. was the most tolerable, though that wasn't saying much, and he seemed to like Scott in a way that got Logan's heckles up. Snow was somewhere in between, closer to the Colonel than the Green Knight. 

None of them trusted him, which was maybe the only kind thing he could say about any of them. 

So he was grumpy. Really fucking grumpy. He felt like punching something. Or, if he was lucky, _someone_ , starting with Colonel fucking Mustard, in the laboratory, with his bare fucking fists. 

Scott must have sensed he was on his last nerve because about a week into the whole thing, he tilted his head at Logan and said, "follow me." Logan, with nothing better to do, followed him. He'd expected to be led outside, with the fresh air the easiest way to clear his head, but Scott led him down a long corridor, further and further away from the ruckus still going on in the dining room until it was quiet. 

Logan exhaled sharply. "How'd you know I was getting a headache, darlin'?"

"A lucky guess," Scott replied dryly. 

Logan grinned, readying himself for another teasing jab just because he could, but then the narrow hallway opened up into a large cavern, the heat in the room solid like a wall. Torches had been lit and hung strategically for light, and one wall had a row of fluffy white bathrobes hung up. In the centre of the room was a large pool, steam rising off the surface of the water. Logan inhaled through his nose.

"Geothermal pool," Scott said, unstrapping his costume, fingers moving deftly over the buckles. 

"Someday this place is gonna be a tourist trap because of these things." Logan shoved his pants down his hips, naked just like that. He dipped a toe into the pool. "This or the scenery. You know, if you were this hard up for a vacation, darlin', you could've just said. A road trip would have been more fun." 

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." 

Logan lowered himself into the water, hissing at the surprising heat of it. Scott was going to be as red as his outfit after a minute or two, but to Logan, it felt like heaven on earth. He sunk down to his shoulders, groaning with pleasure. Through hooded eyes, he watched as Scott continued to undress. 

"Should just wear the undies," Logan murmured. "It'd be a hell of a lot easier."

Scott snorted, which was fine. Seeing Scott dressed up like that was the high point of every day. That and all the kissing sessions, and the snuggling at night, and the way Scott had started touching him without being prompted, intimate touches, like he knew Logan's body as well as he knew anybody's. 

Eventually, Scott was completely naked except for the mask. Logan gave him the once over. Rosy pink nipples, puckered despite the heat. Nice cock, long and soft between his legs, pubic hair trimmed down. Balls were balls, but Logan couldn't help imagining pressing his tongue over the soft, wrinkled skin. Miles of legs, covered in a dusting of dark brown hair, upper thighs strangely devoid of the same. 

Scott's skin blossomed pink before he hit the water. Logan knew he was making him uncomfortable.

He didn't stop, though. Didn't really want to. And until Scott asked, wasn't planning on it either. 

They'd never held their tongues around each other before. Why start now?

Scott exhaled suddenly, like he'd come to the same conclusion and decided he could live with it. He sank into the pool making the same satisfied noises Logan had. It was almost uncomfortably hot, but it felt perfect, the best way – other than sex – to get the tension out. Shuffling through the water, Logan didn't stop until they were sitting side by side. This place wasn't private. They could have visitors. 

But until then, Logan relaxed and didn't think about anything, especially not fucking Scott Summers. 

Even if he looked good. Even if he wanted to. Even if it was inevitable. 

He could have stayed in that pool forever, feeling the heat all the way down to his adamantium bones. Only thing that would have made it better, not involving Scott's dick, would have been being outside. He'd seen the Northern Lights before, and imagined Scott had too, but they never failed to take his breath away. Even in the days when he had felt more like an animal than a man, they'd been beautiful.

But all good things ended, in his experience, and this wasn't any different. 

His ears perked up as he heard someone coming down the hall, and quick as a whip, he was on Scott's lap, kissing him. Arms circled his torso, a hand dragging down his back and pulling him closer. Scott was hard, and with Logan's weight on him, his cock pressed up into the only space it had: against Logan's asshole, hot as the water, slick and wet.

Determined to put on a convincing show, Logan ground down against Scott's erection, making Scott pull back and groan, low and heavy. He lifted up and then did it again, hips pumping in the water, simulating the fuck they weren't actually having. Head lifting up to look at him, Scott twisted his fingers in Logan's hair and dragged him down for another frantic, heated kiss.

Logan's cock, hard as steel, dragged over Scott's tight belly. It would have been so easy to rub himself off there, over the thick line of dark hair and rippling abs, marking Scott with his come and making it clear that Scott was his and all those fucks could back the hell off. Logan instincts were screaming. 

"Please," Snow said as she entered the room. "The rest of us have no desire to swim in your jizz."

Pulling away from Scott, Logan heard himself growling, but he stopped when Scott turned his head, hand pressed possessively over the swell of Logan's bare ass. "You're the one interrupting," he said. 

"Fuck him somewhere else," she said, stepping into the water, naked except for the white mask. Ignoring his raging his hard-on, he scanned her appearance for clues. Teardrop-shaped breasts, nipples dark and pointed, with a neatly trimmed triangle of hair between her legs and a scar on her left side. Not much to go on, other than she was a brunette and had had her appendix removed at some point. 

Scott gave him one last kiss then shifted Logan off his lap before standing up. His erection bobbed out in front of him, at mouth level, and Logan moistened his lips with his tongue. In a similar state of arousal, he followed Scott out of the water and accepted the robe Scott held out, letting him put it on.

Scott and Snow took one last opportunity to snipe at each other before he and Scott walked back to their room, clothes clutched in their arms, feet bare over the rocky ground. Logan was still keyed up, cock pressing against his robe and threatening to slip through the slit in the fabric. By the time Scott closed the door behind them, he was almost mad with lust. His libido was as healthy as the rest of him.

"I'm gonna jack off," Logan said frankly. "Unless you wanna give me a hand."

Scott didn't say anything, but Logan could hear his heart-rate increase and his breathing heighten. 

"Suit yourself," Logan replied after a moment, pulling off his robe and hanging it over the chair, the fabric only slightly damp. "Offer stands if you change your mind. It'd be reciprocal, of course." He looked back over his shoulder to where Scott was still standing. "Always happy to help a buddy out."

Scott still didn't say anything, and Logan wasn't going to press it further. He climbed onto the bed, giving Scott ample opportunity to go into the washroom, but he just turned off the lights and took his side of the mattress. Warning given and hard-on showing no signs of dissipating, Logan reached down to palm his own cock, sliding his foreskin over the tip. It wouldn't take long, not in the state he was in. 

He was just getting to the good part when Scott exhaled suddenly. _Finally_ , Logan thought, settling for jerking off together, a nice team-building activity, but then Scott's hand was knocking his away, and Logan groaned appreciatively, the sound rough in his throat. Whacking off was great, but it always felt better when it was someone else stroking his cock. And Scott, like with everything he did, took command. 

Blindly, Logan reached out and grabbed hold of Scott's dick, which was just as hard as it had been in the pool. Harder. Like Logan, he was uncut, and Logan made full use of the extra skin, pulling at him roughly. It would have felt amazing in him, hot as hell and stiff as a pole. It was the perfect size. 

"Kiss me," Logan growled, working his fingers over Scott's throbbing cock.

Scott made a frustrated sound but did as Logan asked, covering Logan's mouth with his and slicking his bold tongue inside. It was better. Still not fucking in the way he truly wanted, but close enough that the lines were blurred, close enough that he could pretend. In the dark, it almost felt like it was real.

Logan came first, spurting all over Scott's fist and his own chest, then had the presence of mind to bring Scott off, still kissing him, tongue exploring his mouth. Scott orgasmed exactly like Logan would have expected him to: a little too stoic, a little too quiet, but enough cracks that Logan could see straight through them. Controlled, even in bed. Logan wanted to take him apart someday if Scott would let him. 

Scott rolled onto his back and pressed an arm across his eyes, messy hand hanging in mid-air. 

"I had no idea you were this good of an actor," he said. 

"I'm the best there is at what I do," Logan replied, ignoring the sting his words caused. "I told you that."

Again, Scott didn't say anything, but this time, Logan let him be. Eventually, his need for sleep overtook him. He woke once in the middle of the night, alone at one end of the bed, Scott at the other. _Fucking Summers_ , Logan thought, clenching his hand in his pillow, _always finds the sore point_.

* * *

The thing was... he wasn't acting, and it pissed him off that Scott couldn't tell the difference. There weren't many other people Logan would be able to pull off this role with, and he'd always been of the opinion that the story sold a lot more easily if he put enough of himself into it to make it believable. 

Chemistry, sexual or otherwise, couldn't be faked. He would've thought Scott would know that. 

But it wasn't like Scott had much experience going undercover. That was usually Logan's thing. 

Scott gave him the cold shoulder all morning, waiting impatiently by the door as Logan showered and took his sweet ass time putting on the few clothes they had allowed him. Logan didn't even bother to pretend to poke at the crossword puzzles, just kept his eyes on Scott as he worked. He looked frustrated, his hands flat on the table as he looked over a collage of blueprints, his mouth stretched thin. 

Staring at those lips, Logan wanted to kiss him again. Not because people were watching, not because it might lead to a fuck, but for the sheer pleasure of it. Same reason he enjoyed a cigar or a cold mug of beer – not because he was addicted to it, but because he enjoyed it. Because it made him feel good. 

Just when Logan was about to pop his lid, Scott sighed deeply and moved towards the couch. Instinctively, Logan pulled his legs back, making room. With one hand, Scott snatched the book of crossword puzzles out of his fingers, and with the other, he guided Logan's bare feet onto his lap.

The irritation he'd been simmering in all morning whistled out of him like a balloon with a leak.

With asking, Scott grabbed the pen Logan had been chewing on. Logan gave him a glare, and Scott, petty when he wanted to be, had the stones to look completely unapologetic. Rolling his eyes, Logan sat back and closed his eyes, the soothing scratch of the pen over paper enough to deflate him entirely.

Logan had stopped counting beers for Scott's sake – who, by now, owed him a brewery – but he couldn't help picture drinking one with Scott, toasting once this was all over. No doubt there was still time for everything to go belly up, but that was how things went with him. Horror before happiness. 

He got that Scott was trying to smoke Violet out. He just didn't seem to be having much success at it. 

Maybe that was why Scott was in such a bad mood. Frustration bubbling over. Last night clearly didn't do shit to get him to relax. Logan was a good lay, took pride in getting his partners off, but he had to admit a sloppy handjob in the dark wasn't him at his best. Should have taken him in his mouth instead.

Logan watched Scott for a bit, realizing he was coming to hate that mask, though the rest of the outfit could stay. Sensing Scott was growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he shifted his gaze to the panorama around them. The Colonel was engrossed in whatever he was working on, alternating between his microscope and his lab book on a squeaky rolling stool. Snow, likewise, had a neat row of test tubes bubbling away, in a variety of vibrant colours, and an open laptop she was typing away on. 

G.K. had his eyes on them, frowning deeply. Logan gave him a slight, self-satisfied smile. His bare feet were still in Scott's lap, visible from outside the fishbowl. Bored out of his mind, he took his pleasures where he could find them, and since he couldn't use his claws, he'd indulge in pettiness instead. 

"Stop whatever it is you're doing," Scott muttered under his breath, scowling at his crossword puzzle. 

Logan moved his foot, aiming to settle into a more upright position, and ended up inadvertently rubbing his heel over Scott's groin. He felt Scott's dick harden immediately under the pressure. Scott's hand circled his ankle again, squeezing it, and Logan's half-smile stretched into one much more blatant. 

Scott hadn't pushed him away, and, sensing they still had an audience, he played into that. 

"You know how jealous I get, darlin'," he said, feigning innocence when Scott glared at him.

Logan didn't think much more about it, just laid back and tried to relax, but Scott started stroking over Logan's ankle, keeping his foot in contact with the hard length of his cock. His erection burned against Logan's skin, but whenever Logan tried to move again, Scott stopped him, tantalizingly out of reach.

Eventually, Scott stood up, adjusted himself in his leather briefs and went back to work. The two-week deadline loomed on the horizon, and Logan could see the stress of the situation in every line of Scott's body. He wished he could do more. The waiting game was even less fun than the being-spied-on game.

* * *

When it came right down to it, Logan just didn't like people who were rotten to the core. He and Scott butted heads frequently, over pretty much everything, but he respected him, even when Scott was wrong, which was more often than Scott would ever admit. At the end of the day, they were X-Men, and they had chosen the side of angels, even if the wings didn't always fit their general temperaments. 

Scott could be an asshole, but so could he. From that angle, they basically cancelled each other out. 

As usual, dinner was a trial, but the food was good, and Scott was friendlier than he'd been all day. Logan usually spent half the evening with Scott's tongue down his throat, but they weren't back at that point yet. If the others noticed, they didn't let on. Snow's current experiment had gone off the rails, taking the Colonel's with it, so Scott's bad mood was eclipsed by a bunch of bickering psychopaths.

Nights like these, Logan really had to resist popping his claws and blowing his cover. 

There was still that undercurrent of longing in him, curling low in his belly, warm and sensual. Scott's hand had been perfunctory, no lingering touches, no exploring fingers, just a means to an end. The kissing had been good – Scott had a talented tongue and kissed like a champ – but he wanted more.

The teasing that morning had only whet his appetite. 

He wanted to go down on his knees for him and take that gorgeous cock into his mouth. He wanted to taste him and scent him and feel him shake apart under his ministrations. Logan was getting hard just thinking about it. He imagined the sounds Scott would make, his stoic facade shattering as Logan dismantled his armour, layer by layer. He'd spent years ignoring his own feelings, and now they felt immense, as easy to ignore as an avalanche. Would Scott let him do that for him? Would he believe it?

It was worth trying. Worse thing that could happen would be Scott telling him to fuck off, and that was nothing new. Something had been building between them. It had started at that first kiss then continued once Logan's eyes had cleared and he'd seen Scott standing there, dressed in head-to-toe red leather.

But even thinking that, it didn't seem quite right. It felt older than that first surprising kiss. 

Or was he misremembering things? Logan had never been able to trust his own memory. 

Logan looked over at Scott, whose tensely squared jaw was the only betrayal of his annoyance. 

In some ways, Logan couldn't wait for this gong show to end. He had no patience for these buffoons, he'd been wearing the same pair of pants for over a week, and he'd spent most of his time feeling like a caged animal. But in other ways... it hadn't been terrible, not with Scott beside him, sharing in his suffering.

* * *

Logan thought about suggesting another dip in the geothermal pool, thinking it might be an easy way to thaw Scott the rest of the way through, but it wasn't his style to beat around the bush when he wanted something. And he wanted Scott. He could admit that easy enough. Maybe Scott needed to hear it from him.

"Slim, about last night..."

"You don't have to say anything about last night," Scott said, cutting him off. 

"Well, I'm gonna, so brace yourself, darlin'." Before he continued, Logan waited until Scott looked in his direction with a sigh. "That thing about helping a buddy out... I said that for you, not me. In case I haven't been clear enough: I _wanted_ your hand on me. And I wanted a whole lot more than your hand."

Scott plopped down on the edge of the bed. Bracing his arms on his thighs, he stared down at his clasped hands, shoulders slumped. "I can't do this with you," Scott said without looking up. "I'm sorry you find this so boring that you're... whatever. I can't entertain you. I don't have the fucking time."

"You think I'm doing this 'cause I'm bored out of my skull?"

"Aren't you?"

"Bored? Fucking right I am. But the rest of it...? No fucking way, Slim."

Scott snorted derisively. _Yeah_ , Logan thought, staring at his scowl, _definitely a bit of an asshole_.

"If you're looking for poetry, you ain't gonna get it," Logan added, crossing the room to get up in his space. Scott lifted his head, an obstinate tilt to his chin, and Logan leaned in real close. "You turn my crank, Scotty. Maybe I got a thing for guys in leather, or maybe it's the fact the leather's on you that's driving me wild, but I've been thinking about sucking your cock all day. It's exactly what you need."

"What makes you think I'm interested?"

Logan grinned, his mouth close enough to brush Scott's ear. "I can tell when someone's lying, Slim."

"No," Scott said, turning his head so their lips were almost touching, "I don't think you can."

"You gonna tell me what you mean by that?" Logan asked, resisting the urge to kiss him even though Scott was making it so damn easy. Even more infuriatingly, Scott just shook his head slightly, cracking a hint of a smile, and Logan felt his own grin widen. "Then are you gonna let me suck your dick?"

"You don't have to," Scott ground out nobly. 

"Slim, what more do I gotta do to convince you I'm practically gagging for it?"

He felt the moment Scott let go of the last of his inhibitions, leaving his body with a shudder. His mouth finally found Logan's, and the kiss was hot and desperate, Scott's leather-covered hand folding over the back of Logan's head. Half of him wanted to strip Scott bare and drag his lips over every bit of his flushed skin. But the other half wanted him in the leather as he sucked him off. That half won out. 

Logan moved down Scott's body, lingering over his chest to bite and suck at each pebbled nipple. Scott's legs drifted open, his hips rolling with the need for friction on his cock, but Logan continued to ignore it, using his hands and his tongue to tease down Scott's torso. With his fingertips, he explored beneath the well-filled leather, looking for erogenous zones he might've missed, playing with him. 

"I can take the fucking thing off," Scott groaned, fingers tightening in Logan's hair.

"Don't you fucking dare," Logan growled, pressing his mouth and his tongue over the straining leather. The mixture of scents was driving him crazy, the smell of leather on top of the smell of Scott himself, heady and masculine and so ready for him, the sharp scent of pre-come laid over everything else.

Scott swore when Logan finally found the hidden zipper and pulled it down, just low enough to get Scott's cock out with one careful hand, barely touching him. He nosed around it instead, nostrils flared, inhaling the fragrance of his skin. Tugging on Logan's hair, Scott made an impatient noise, beautifully close to begging, but Logan took his time exploring the damp skin. He'd waited long enough for it.

But with that in mind, he took Scott in his mouth, the spongy tip of his dick butting up against the roof of Logan's mouth. Logan was out of practice at cocksucking, he'd be the first to admit it, but he'd always been a quick learner, and he knew how to follow Scott's directions without having to hear his words. And Scott was an appreciative partner, not loud but tactile, his fingers showing Logan how he liked it. 

He sucked and licked and kissed, using a hand to stroke the parts of Scott's cock his mouth didn't cover. Took him deep a few times, just to show he could, throat working around Scott's dick, breath harsh. He wanted Scott to come in his mouth, wanted to taste him, so he pulled back and focussed on the task at hand. He took Scott apart, layer by layer, until he was spurting hot all over Logan's waiting tongue. 

He suckled him until he ran dry, knowing Scott was oversensitive and taking him that much further. When he couldn't ignore his own cock any longer, Logan leaned over him and shoved his pants down his hips, low enough to free his cock. With one hand on his dick and the other twisted in the straps of Scott's harness, Logan brought himself off with rough, furious strokes, marking Scott with his come. 

Once he'd caught his breath, Logan stood back and admired his handiwork. "Not bad," he said. 

"You're cleaning it up," Scott replied, lips pink and plump and chewed to shit. 

Logan leaned forward and kissed him. A growl rose in his throat when Scott kissed him back, tongue slicking into Logan's mouth, obviously eager to taste himself. "I'll add a couple beers to your tally," Logan murmured, smoothing a hand over the side of Scott's hip that he had bared getting at his cock.

"I'd hate to see that invoice right now," Scott replied with a grim little smile that Logan kissed away.

* * *

The next morning, Scott woke up tense, so Logan pushed him into the bathroom and made him take off that ridiculous mask. With one palm pressed over Scott's closed eyes and the other folded over his wakening cock, Logan got him off under the rush of the steamy shower water, his own dick fucking between Scott's slippery thighs, thrusts matching the brutal pace of his hand. If they'd had more time, if Scott had wanted it, Logan would have gladly fucked him. Logan had no idea if he'd ever been fucked.

He was beginning to think he didn't know as much about this whole situation as he thought he did. 

That maybe he couldn't spot a liar when that liar knew everything about him.

Food for thought, anyway. He tucked it away and focussed on bringing Scott to a well-deserved orgasm. He could feel Scott's eyelids under his hand, fluttering with the effort not to open his eyes. It had taken a bit to get Scott to agree to fucking in the shower without his ruby-quartz goggles at all. 

This was the compromise. Logan wished Scott could see how hot he looked in the mirror. 

A few more pulls of his hand, and Scott came with a groan that echoed off the walls. Logan quickly followed him, panting hard against his back, face pressed to the warm indent of his naked spine. 

After he caught his breath, he shampooed and conditioned Scott's hair before moving his soapy hands over Scott's skin, cleaning every bit of him. He lingered between his legs, taking too long on his softening cock and the weight of his balls, eventually slipping his fingers into the crease of his ass.

Scott shuddered at the touch but otherwise kept silent. 

"I have to do something stupid," Scott said later, eyes closed, as Logan dried Scott's hair with a towel. 

Logan kept his voice light. "And that's different than usual how?" 

Scott's frown deepened, the huff of his breath the only acknowledgement of Logan's attempt at levity. Like Scott, he knew the clock was ticking down and they were running out of time. Two weeks had sounded like forever when he'd first set out, but it'd gone by fast, even though he hadn't done much. 

"What's the plan, Slim?"

In a low voice, barely audible, Scott outlined what he felt he needed to do: until now, he'd been a good little soldier. His work hadn't been flawless – Logan could attest to that, but Scott's standards had always been higher than the average Joe's anyway – but it had been convincing enough to fool these egomaniacs. Scott's plan, as far as Logan could figure, involved Scott fucking up monumentally. 

"Who's to say they just won't kill you outright?"

Scott lifted one shoulder carelessly, like he didn't give a shit, but Logan could hear how hard his heart was beating. "Hopefully I've made myself invaluable," Scott with a wry twist of his lips, trying and failing, like Logan had, to lighten the mood. "The alternative is sending you out to the checkpoint."

"Much as more time sounds tempting, they'd kill you the second they realized I was gone."

"You're saying you can't do it?"

"I'm saying I won't do it," Logan replied, the sharpness in his voice enough to make Scott jerk. Logan tugged the mask over Scott's head, his hair as dry as it was going to get. "Say what you want about the players here, but the security ain't nothing to scoff at. It has your fucking hands all over it, Slim." 

Scott reached up to clasp the mask into place. His eyes met Logan's in the mirror. He smiled faintly. 

"Do what you gotta do." Logan folded his hands over Scott's shoulder and squeezed him. "It's a shitty plan, but I've got your back. Worse case, you and me, we fight our way out and hunt them down some other way." Logan cracked his own small grin. "Guess we just hope our friends come through, eh?"

"Guess we do," Scott replied. 

Logan slid his hand down and pressed it over Scott's steady heartbeat. 

"Thank you," Scott said, and Logan nodded gruffly, knowing he meant it.

* * *

Scott's heartbeat spiked later in the afternoon, and Logan knew he had pulled the trigger on the plan. Outwardly, he didn't acknowledge anything, just kept flipping through a home decor magazine he'd found in the trash. It wasn't anything he gave a shit about, but it was better than the crossword puzzles. 

And then they just waited. The rest of the day passed by without incident. Dinner was a shit show, but what else was new? He blew Scott again, the minute they got back to the room, letting him fuck his mouth until Logan's jaw was sore and his eyes were watering. It was what Scott needed, and Logan was happy to oblige. But Scott turned the tables on him after and took Logan's cock into his mouth. 

That, Logan could be sure, Scott had definitely done before. 

Scott blew him for a while on his knees, still fully dressed, before eventually pushing Logan towards the bed. As Logan watched, Scott undressed, leaving a pile of red leather on the floor. He had a great body, lean and fit and long, and Logan admired it openly. When Scott's hands moved to his hips, Logan helpfully lifted them and let Scott pull off his pants. Scott bent down and put his mouth back to work. 

Logan laid back and enjoyed it, naked as the day he was born, legs spread wide as Scott worked. His mouth was hot and wet and determined to show off. Logan's fingers flexed in the sheets, refusing to clutch Scott's horns on the principle of the thing. The rest of him was sexy in that costume, but that mask covered too much of Scott's face to really get Logan going. He wanted to pull his hair a little.

"You could fuck me," Logan murmured, "if you wanted to."

Scott pulled off of his dick, using his hand instead on Logan's slick cock. "I didn't bring any condoms." 

Logan snorted. "Don't need 'em," he said, "unless you're really amped to use one, that is."

Scott considered that, his cock already half-hard again, and Logan lifted a foot, brushing it over it. "It would feel real good to have that in me," he added, feeling it plump up further against his sole. "Been thinking about it, how good you'd fill me up, how hot your come would feel leaking out of my ass."

Scott exhaled sharply, looking vaguely scandalized by the dirty talk, but Logan couldn't help himself. Getting a rise out of Scott Summers, good or bad, was one of his favourite pastimes, and he wanted to be fucked. Not because things were poised to go off the rails, but because it was Scott who would do it.

With a sigh, Scott stood up and walked into the bathroom. While he was gone, Logan continued where Scott had left off, fingers stroking over his cock, hard enough to keep it stiff but not enough to come from it. He was dangerously close already, the memory of Scott's talented mouth impossible to forget. 

Scott returned with a bottle of hand lotion and tossed it onto the bed. Not normally his preferred option, but it would work. Logan doubted there was a drugstore within hours of here, and he wasn't about to waste any more time going out to find some among their present company. Despite the heat of the room, it felt cool on Logan's skin as Scott spread it against his asshole with the pads of two fingers. 

Logan pushed his ass at Scott's meticulously careful hand. "Stick 'em in me," he prompted. 

Scott obliged, pressing them into him. Logan willed his body to open up around them, sighing when Scott got them in deep and started to fuck him, twisting in with each thrust. Logan thought he could come like this alone, clenching on Scott's clever fingers, without needing to touch his own cock again. 

"You like this," Scott said. 

"No shit, Sherlock," Logan replied, shimmying his hips a little, pressing down on Scott's hand. 

Scott made another noise, skin radiating heat, heart beating like a jackhammer. Yeah, Logan thought, rolling his hips again, it would have been so easy to let himself go, but he wanted Scott in him. He didn't expect either of them to die before the end, but they were X-Men. Sometimes it happened anyway. 

Fighting against his own need, Logan pulled Scott over him. He thought about turning over, rolling onto his belly and making the angle a little easier for Scott, but he wanted to see Scott's face. The weight of his bones meant Scott wouldn't be able to hold him for long, but Logan doubted that either of them would need much time at all. Despite having already come, Scott looked close to the edge, too. 

"Come on," Logan goaded him, hands on Scott's ass and guiding him in. "Show me what you can do."

Eyes closed behind his mask, Scott used one hand to position the head of his dick against Logan's hole and began to push in, a slow slick slide, so much thicker and better than his fingers. He moved his hands from Scott's buttocks to his face, pulling him down for a kiss. Scott bottomed out, holding still for a moment, and then began to fuck him, the pace of his thrusts increasing with each new attempt. 

Logan pushed back, urging him on, setting the pace and mirroring every delicious movement with his tongue. His entire world distilled down to heat and wet and Scott. His smell, his sound, his taste, Logan's senses were almost overwhelmed, enveloped by every bit of Scott that he was willing to give. 

Logan came without being touched, his cock jerking between them, streaking white all over their bellies. Scott groaned, either at the pulse of Logan's come or at the sensation of Logan clenching around him, and Logan kept kissing him, biting at his lips, licking at his tongue, until he felt the rush of Scott coming deep inside him, his heightened sense of touch making sure he felt every last bit of it.

With a full-body shiver, Scott collapsed on top of him and lay there for a long time, unmoving. Logan kept his fingers on Scott's back, stroking over his skin until Scott finally pulled out and rolled over. In profile, he looked troubled, but Logan kept quiet. He doubted he looked any better. In fact, he knew it.

* * *

Time slowed to a crawl over the next two days. 

He and Scott fucked as often as they could, with a quiet desperation that neither of them acknowledged. They even did it in the supply closet. For a long time, it didn't look like Scott's plan had worked, but on the evening of the second day, in the middle of a dinner where Logan split his time between the lamb soup and imagining how nice it would be to stick his claws in someone, Shy Violent finally showed up. 

Logan took one look at her and knew, with certainty, that she had heightened senses. It was the deep breath she took, the way her nostrils opened and surveyed the room. Had she showed up any time before three days ago, she would have called them on their bluff the moment she laid eyes on them. 

As it was, they stunk of each other. There was no denying they were sleeping together and often. 

They'd dodged a bullet. Logan just hoped that luck would continue. 

"I can see why you might be distracted," Violet said to Scott, who had his arms crossed, a haughty tilt to his jaw, "but this bullshit you sent me is going to ruin all the work I've done. Get him out of here."

Scott shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not sure the others will agree to that. He's on a very short leash."

"I don't fucking care," she replied. "I need you thinking with your head, not your dick."

"The only problem I see right now is you."

Scott was pushing it, especially since her anger was burning like a fire within her, but she was a woman who'd come here looking for a fight, and Scott had given her one. As they fought over the files Scott had sent her, Logan stayed back and let it happen. He set his eyes on the other three, watching their reactions. Snow looked vindicated, The Colonel annoyed. The Green Knight, as usual, was smirking.

* * *

The day after that marked the two-week point. There was no sign of the X-Men, though Logan had to assume they were coming. Emma had been firm on the deadline. The morning of, still warm from sleep, he and Scott fucked for what could be the last time. Whatever happened, their mission was ending, and they'd never talked about anything beyond that. Logan didn't let himself worry about it. 

Instead, he worried about Scott, who had done everything in his power to keep Violet there. She was losing patience with him, and while Scott was invaluable, he wasn't irreplaceable. Logan wished he knew what he was dealing with powers-wise when it came to these people. Scott had said they were dangerous, but beyond that, he hadn't shared any other information. Logan doubted he knew either. 

Logan wondered if they were mutants. If they were that made this even sicker. You didn't go after your own kind like this, no matter what grievances you had. Logan had seen first hand the shit they were working on, had heard tidbits of their discussions and seen the twisted results of their experiments. 

He was ready for this to be done. Maybe after, he could convince Scott to stay another week. 

A vacation sounded nice right about then, and assuming no one had stolen his SUV, it was available.

So Logan watched and waited, neither of which he was really good at. Scott, realizing how far he'd pushed it, started giving into Violet's demands, and slowly but surely, the ship began to right itself. Another few hours, it would be like this speed bump had never happened. They were running out of time. Short of cutting his head off, Logan knew he could make it out alive, but Scott wasn't as sturdy.

And then, surprised despite himself, he felt Emma push at his mind. Just a nudge, but enough. 

If Scott had received the same warning, he betrayed nothing, but Logan had to assume he'd felt it, too. 

And then the whole place exploded into chaos. Logan half expected the henchmen to come running, but they must have been disposed of in advance, because it remained the five of them plus Logan versus the X-Men, with Alex leading the charge. For the first time, Logan saw the people he'd spent the last two weeks with use the powers they'd been hiding. Scott went after Alex, exactly like he should have. 

Logan, refusing to break his cover, let Emma into his head, put on a good show, but ended up on his knees, nose bleeding, shaking with pain. Through hazy eyes, he watched as Rogue and Remy took on Snow and The Colonel, while Iceman and G.K. duked it out and Polaris busied herself with Violet. 

These assholes might have been the brain, but in this case, the brawn – the X-Men – won out. 

Not that Logan had ever doubted they would. He just wished he'd been able to get in on it. 

Logan knew the drill. He knelt as they cuffed him, placing a helmet over his head that muted his senses. If this was the real world, they'd be transferred into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody and shipped off to the Raft, hopefully to rot for a long time. Logan was the only one anyone could identify by sight, and as far as anyone knew, he didn't have any powers that made him dangerous, if he even had any of them at all.

It was finally over, but it still felt unfinished. With nothing to focus on but his own feelings, Logan was restless, his skin itching with a need he didn't know was mutual. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Scott had made it clear he'd been lying about something, but which part? Logan just didn't know anymore.

* * *

It felt like hours before someone uncuffed him. To his surprise, they were still in Iceland, and he could see Scott a ways away, talking to Alex and Emma about something. He looked none the worse for wear. Logan looked away and up at Rogue, who offered her hand. She hauled him to his feet with a tug. 

"You okay, sugar?" she asked, giving a quick once over. "Emma didn't go easy on you."

"Had to keep up appearances. Only feel a little pureed."

"Well, that's something," Rogue replied with a smile. "Hear you and Cyke got up to some interesting things while y'all were away." Logan wasn't quite sure what she meant by that or how much Scott was planning to share. "Here Remy and I were thinking you'd gone on vacation together. You're due one." 

Logan snorted. "Don't I know it. Speaking of the Cajun, what's he up to?"

"Oh, you know. Stealing as much as he can before S.H.I.E.L.D. clears them completely out. Bobby and Lorna are running interference. We're leaving as much as we need for convictions, but the rest of it is coming with us." Rogue's smile dimmed slightly. "You saved lives, Logan. A heck of a lot of them."

"That's what we do, darlin'," Logan replied. 

Rogue took him into the complex, and for the first time, Logan really got a sense of how big it was. Over the next few hours, he helped Remy gather more of the info, using the intel he had gathered to point out the particularly well-hidden spots. Given time, Remy would have found them all eventually, but that was something they didn't have. Pretty soon, they were going to be outnumbered by outsiders. 

Even though he was itching to talk to Scott, he didn't seek him out, not yet. There was work to be done, and after spending two weeks on his ass and only three days of that doing anything fun, he was eager for it. The only good thing about the whole experience had been Scott. It really was as simple as that.

* * *

Once Remy had finished his reconnaissance work, Logan went to find Scott. Didn't take long to locate him, his familiar scent guiding Logan through the main doors and outside. When Scott caught sight of him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. He held it up between two fingers like a peace offering. Logan, who'd still been carrying around the lighter in his pocket even though the smokes were long gone, immediately lit up. Yeah, he thought as he stared up at the sky, it hit that craving real nice. 

"So we probably gotta talk about what happened back there."

"Have you figured out what I was lying about yet?"

"Probably the same thing I was." Logan looked at him. Scott had gotten a pair of ruby quartz glasses from somewhere, and it was a relief to see him without the mask, though he was still dressed up in leather. If they hadn't had an audience, Logan would have gone down on his knees right there and given him a celebratory blowjob. He resisted the urge. "I think we've both been lying for a while." 

"So either we end it now..."

"Or we keep it going," Logan finished when Scott trailed off. "There aren't enough beers in the world to pay me back for that bullshit, Scotty, but I'd consider us even if you'd consider going on vacation with me. Right now. I got a vehicle all gassed up and ready to go. I even have a couple extra pairs of pants."

"That was a hard mission."

"Yeah, and I'm giving you permission to take a break." Logan exhaled, smoke billowing out of his nose. "So what do you say, Slim? See the sights, enjoy some hot water soaks, fuck like animals. Sounds like we both got years of pent-up emotions to work through. Better start figuring them out now."

"Okay," Scott said. "Sounds like a plan."

Logan nodded, intent on finishing his cigar before moving again. For a moment, he knew Scott was considering kissing him, letting the cat out of the bag without any preamble, but then he thought better of it. Not that Logan had anything to hide – and he doubted Scott did either – but they'd never hear the end of it. Better to enjoy their vacation in peace then come back and let everyone else in on the secret.

Scott glanced towards the growing group of X-Men waiting by the X-Jet. "All right, I'll inform Alex we won't be heading back with them and tell Emma she's on her own for a bit longer. I'll be right back."

"You know where to find me," Logan said.

He was just finishing up the cigar when Scott returned. 

Logan snuffed it out on a rock and tucked it in his pocket to dispose of later. No reason to litter, especially in a place so picturesque. He had no idea where they'd go from there or where they'd sleep tonight, but even if they ended up outside, under the aurora, they wouldn't be bored. "Ready, darlin'?" 

"As I'll ever be," Scott replied. 

Turning down a lift, they hiked their way to the little abandoned cabin. Scott retrieved the satellite phone and the pair of ruby quartz glasses he'd been forced to bury outside when he'd felt them starting to get suspicious. Good timing too, since that was the last time Scott had been able to leave the lair. 

They'd gotten luckier than they had any right to be. Logan decided to take that as a good sign. 

Another good sign was that no one had stolen the SUV. Logan fished out a couple pairs of pants and sweaters, stopping mid-way when he saw Scott shrugging out of the leather. For old time's sake, they fucked in the backseat, Logan naked and Scott in costume. "Promise me you'll put it on for special occasions," Logan growled, mouthing at Scott's straining cock through his briefs. "Please, darlin'." 

"Fine," Scott ground out. "You're lucky I even kept it. It barely fits anymore."

"Fits fine from where I'm sitting," Logan assured him. "Though your cock might split the seams."

Scott made a noise of pure frustration, pressing up into his mouth, begging for more, and Logan was happy to give Scott everything he needed. He peeled those briefs down and took his cock in his mouth, thinking about all the roads that lay ahead and all the things still left to discover. Like how vocal Scott could get when they were in the middle of nowhere, the only people for kilometres in any direction. 

It was a great discovery. One of the best he'd made so far. And the first of many, Logan suspected.


End file.
